“Yes.”
[Ding!]
[All the barn radishes have been sold.
Five hundred gold coins have been placed in your purse]
[You do not have any crops in your barn.
Make more of an effort to cultivate]
Sienna grinned.
The teasing tone of the system felt oddly satisfying.
Her total wealth had risen to seven hundred gold coins.
Without delay, she issued her next command.
“Cultivate the land.”
The system replied.
[Cultivating new land requires you to be at level three and two hundred gold coins.
You have reached the requirement.
Do you wish to cultivate the land?]
“Yes.”
At once, the Spatial Farm trembled.
Mist surged over the empty ground beside her existing fields.
The white fog swirled and condensed, and when it finally dispersed, two new acres of farmland stretched before her like fresh parchment awaiting the first lines of destiny.
Sienna’s eyes gleamed.
“Open the ground and plant the corn seeds.”
The shovel, bucket, and seed bags immediately sprang into motion.
The shovel turned the earth.
The bucket watered the furrows.
Golden corn seeds arced through the air and settled into the dark soil with soft, rhythmic patters.
Within moments, two full acres had been planted.
Sienna stood at the edge of the field, hands clasped behind her back, watching the newly sown land.
Corn was more than a crop.
It was food.
It was seed.
It was fodder.
It was firewood.
It was the cornerstone upon which House Vale could rebuild.
One acre of space-grown corn could produce an astonishing amount of grain, and from that harvest she could save enough seeds to plant hundreds of acres outside.
The thought made her pulse quicken.
Radishes would bring money.
Corn would bring stability.
Together, they would form the two pillars supporting House Vale’s rebirth.
Sienna lifted her eyes toward the endless sky above the Spatial Farm.
The wind brushed against her face.
A slow smile spread across her lips.
“Let the nobles of the Arcana Empire laugh while they still can,” she whispered.
“A spark has already been lit.
And once a field catches fire, even kings cannot stop the harvest.”
As Sienna stood at the edge of the newly planted cornfield inside the Spatial Farm, watching the shovel smooth the last furrow and the final handful of golden kernels disappear into the rich dark soil, a long breath escaped her lips, slow and heavy, as though she were letting out a burden she had been carrying on her shoulders since the moment she opened her eyes in this world.
The two acres of land lay before her in neat rows, quiet and full of promise.
At first glance, they looked ordinary.
Just soil.
Just seeds.
Just another field.
But to Sienna, these two acres were no different from an army assembling before battle.
If the corn proved to be as useful as she remembered from her previous life, then House Vale would no longer need to fear the future.
Corn would fill their stomachs.
Corn stalks would warm their rooms in winter.
The kernels would become seeds for larger harvests.
And each harvest would become another stone laid in the foundation of House Vale’s return.
But whether this hope would bloom into reality or wither in the soil, she would not know until more than a dozen hours had passed.
So she waited.
*
The planting process finished quickly.
The shovel returned to its place.
The bucket floated back to the spring.
The field became still once more, the only movement being the soft ripple of the spring water and the faint rustle of leaves from the nearby radish patch.
Sienna did not leave.
Instead, she turned her attention to the radishes.
The white roots were nearly ready, their green tops swaying gently under the bright light of the Spatial Farm.
She watched them for a moment, then suddenly slapped her forehead.
The crisp sound echoed in the quiet field.
“Of course,” she muttered, laughing at herself.
“When a man is carrying water on his shoulders, he sometimes forgets that there is already a well beside him.”
Then she corrected herself with a snort.
“Well, in this case, when a woman is carrying water.”
She straightened and called out, “Space, how much time until the radishes mature?”
The familiar mechanical voice answered at once.
[There are three minutes until the radishes mature.].
Sienna nodded.
“Three minutes.”
She folded her arms and looked toward the field.
“Three minutes is enough time to sharpen one’s blade, or to buy more seeds.”
Without hesitation, she purchased another bag of radish seeds for one hundred and fifty gold coins.
The money vanished from her purse.
When she checked her balance, she found that she had only 350 gold coins left.
The number would have frightened her in the past.
Now, strangely enough, it did not.
Money was like water in a canal.
If it remained stagnant, it served no purpose.
Only when it flowed into the fields did it nourish life.
Here in the Black Soil Wasteland, standing still was more dangerous than spending.
If she developed too slowly, House Vale would remain trapped in this dead land.
If she developed too quickly, they might attract attention from powerful enemies.
So for now, she had chosen the middle road.
Focus on the Spatial Farm.
Raise its level.
Strengthen her hidden foundation.
Then, when the roots were deep enough, let the tree rise.
That thought reminded her of Harold.
She could not contact him.
There was no phone, no message crystal, no convenient way in this world to send word.
Harold was already on the road, trying to find buyers for the radishes.
Sienna could only hope he would not promise more than the market could absorb.
If too many radishes flooded the market at once, prices would collapse.
Even the finest silk loses value if it is sold by the cartload in every street.
She sighed softly.
“Grandpa Harold,” she murmured, “please don’t come back with an order big enough to sink us.”
Originally, Sienna had not wanted to depend too heavily on the Spatial Farm.
It felt too miraculous.
Too convenient.
Too unreal, like a treasure chest discovered in a dream.
And everyone knows that dream treasure often disappears when morning comes.
But circumstances had left her no choice.
House Vale needed the farm.
Without it, they had no money, no crops, and no hope.
Still, she refused to trust it blindly.
The Spatial Farm was a ladder.
Useful, invaluable even.
But a wise person climbs the ladder while also building stairs.
If the ladder breaks, she told herself, I must still be standing on solid ground.
That was why transforming the Black Soil Wasteland remained her true goal.
The need for careful calculation was not new to her.
In her previous life, she had spent countless hours playing farm simulation games.
At first, she had played casually, visiting friends, stealing crops, and passing the time.
Later, she started over with a second account and approached the game like a strategist studying a battlefield.
She had learned a harsh lesson when her farm reached level twenty, and she unlocked the ranch, only to discover that she had no money left to develop it.
The result was a painful stalemate.
She had land but no capital.
There was an opportunity but no means to seize it.
That experience taught her a simple truth.
A general who spends all his arrows on the first skirmish will have nothing left when the real war begins.
That lesson guided her now.
Every seed.
Every gold coin.
Every decision.
All had to be weighed like a merchant weighs gems on a scale.
Before long, her thoughts were interrupted by the system voice.
[Radishes have matured.
Please harvest as soon as possible]
Sienna looked up sharply.
The radishes were ready.
But she did not issue the harvest command immediately.
Instead, she stood in silence, studying the field.
The last time the radishes had been harvested, the leaves had vanished.
The system had apparently treated them as worthless waste.
At the time, she had not cared.
Now she cared very much.
The leaves were feed.
Feed meant blue-eyed rabbits.
Blue-eyed rabbits meant meat, fur, and income.
What the system discarded as scraps might become the thread from which House Vale would weave its future.
“A wise woman,” she thought, “does not throw away the husk simply because she has already eaten the grain.”
Sienna inhaled deeply.
Her fingers tightened at her sides.
If this experiment failed, she would need to order manual harvesting, which would slow production and increase the risk of exposing the Spatial Farm.
If it succeeded, her control over the farm would be far greater than she had imagined.
She steadied herself and spoke clearly.
“Harvest the radishes.
Separate the radishes and the radish leaves.”
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Sienna’s heart thudded against her ribs.
Then the field came alive.